A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth

by Gabriella West

  “Really?” he enquired. “I think you’re at your strongest.”

  He got up slowly. It only took a few steps to reach me. His hand moved over my short hair, caressed my face.

  “One kiss,” he said softly.

  I closed my eyes and our lips met. I felt him sighing against me. Because of the circumstances, I could not feel the passion and longing he seemed to feel. It didn’t matter, because he supplied it all on his own. It felt good to be held against his strong body, so I let him.

  He pulled back a little. “I hope you won’t look back in five years and hate me for what I did to you,” he murmured.

  I shook my head. “I doubt it. In any case, I’ll never let another man do to me what you did.”

  “Because...?” He seemed alarmed.

  It was hard to put into words what I meant. “I don’t ever intend to be with anyone else besides you and Stephen. You’ve just told me we’re finished, and I don’t know if Stephen will want to be with me again, if he recovers.”

  “Of course he will want to be with you,” Simon said tenderly.

  “What we did together, I’m not ashamed of, though.” It seemed important to say it, because I sensed he thought I would be ashamed of it as I grew older, and more manly.

  “Believe me, Will,” Simon said, taking my hand. “If I ever get a chance to be with you again, and the timing is right, I would love to. I would be honored.”

  I gave a little chuckle, which must have sounded cynical to him.

  “It’s not that I lack desire for you,” he protested. “You see that. It’s Father. He needs me and Henry at his command now more than ever. If he knew about us, he would target you. He’s a very intense, pious man; he doesn’t hold back. I don’t want you to feel his contempt and anger. And I don’t want to feel it again myself. I’m caught.”

  “You took a risk for me,” I muttered.

  “I did. You were worth it, though. I told you that I loved you.”

  “Yes, but you must have said that to many people.”

  “Never,” he said flatly. I believed him, and an unexpected surge of love for him filled me.

  When we kissed again, my body was more yielding. In the now darkening room, he moved me back against the bookcase and knelt before me, opening my clothing. I felt his warm mouth sliding onto my cock. I moaned, biting my lip, my legs trembling. I did not want to stop him, but I knew it would be fast.

  “Some relief,” he said gently afterward, moving his lips onto mine. I tasted myself on his mouth.

  “I like doing that,” he said, “but only with you.”

  We had become familiar with each other now, as lovers. It was easy to unbutton his hose and stroke him, jerking him rhythmically with my strong fingers.

  He gasped against me, his heart racing, his warm breath on my face.

  I didn’t hurry. This is the last time, I thought. It felt more like the first, in that chamber in Warwick. The intense love and desire I’d felt for him more recently was dimmed by anxiety. But I’d always love Simon, I felt then; the connection between us would not die until one of us did.

  “Thank you,” he said finally, with great feeling, and that was apt.

  “Thank you, my lord,” I replied with humor, and we both laughed.

  “Thank you for helping me forget,” I added. “I thought I wouldn’t laugh again.”

  “Maybe someday we can be together. I hope so.”

  I didn’t answer, unsure what he meant. I held him in my arms, my back pressed against the dusty books. We rested for a moment.

  “Godspeed tomorrow, Will. I’ll summon you if I need your help, but take all the time you need with him,” he told me. “I’ve given Wilecok a purse of money.”

  When I finally reached my chamber, I fell into a deep sleep, and was woken only by Wilecok banging on the door, hoarsely telling me that he had brought provisions and that we should leave now. It was dawn and the room was cool. I got dressed in the faint light, looked around the sparsely furnished chamber for the last time, and left. My sword hung at my side. As we rode out of Kenilworth Castle on that quiet summer morning, I tried to shake the heavy weight of dread that had settled on me ever since we had encountered the Black Friars the previous day.

  The portcullis clanged shut behind us. I looked back at the castle, shining ruddily in the rays of the rising sun.

  Farewell, I said silently, a lump in my throat as Wilecok rode stolidly along.

  Somehow I must have known the unthinkable: that I would never be inside its walls again.

  Chapter 15

  “We’ll follow the path of the Cherwell,” Wilecok said presently, gesturing to the placid river that started in Northamptonshire and ran through Warwickshire all the way down to Oxford. “And we’ll stop in the town of Banbury. All right? Ever been to Banbury, Sir William?”

  He was treating me like someone who had to be cajoled, someone younger than my years. And at the same time, someone of higher rank than him. I was tired of it all.

  “Just call me Will,” I answered. “I don’t feel I’ve earned the knightly title yet. And as for Banbury, my father used to bring back delicious cakes from there when I was a child. But I haven’t been, myself.”

  For it was twenty miles away from Kenilworth, a great distance in those days. As a family, we had not ventured very far outside our own little circle.

  “Banbury cakes,” Wilecok said with satisfaction. “We’ll get ourselves some of those, and some ripe fruits for your invalid.”

  I shot him an irritated glance. He would get on my nerves the whole way unless I accepted him for what he was. And I still was not sure what he was, not sure whether he was there to serve as my guide or my spy, or both.

  “We shall get to Oxford in six hours, I reckon,” Wilecok said. “We’ll break for a meal on the way. No sense exhausting the horses. Mind you, if I was alone, riding fast, I could have done it in four.”

  I nodded. I was having a hard time realizing that in just a few hours, I would see Stephen. I was still thinking of Simon’s farewell last night, his lips on me, his warm breath on my face. As wicked as it might have been to dwell on it, it helped me endure the tedious ride with Wilecok, who chattered away in short bursts and was completely silent for long periods.

  And Stephen. Every time I thought of him, I had to hold back tears. Was he alive? How alone he must feel! I knew how my parents had suffered. He would be weak, feverish, in pain, unable to eat... and that would be the best-case scenario.

  “Don’t think of him,” Wilecok said with unexpected gentleness. “I can see the worry on your face... Put it out of your mind until we get there.”

  I glanced over at him, to my left. He was hunched in the saddle, and smaller than me, so I had to look down. “My father died of smallpox.”

  “I’m sorry.” He thought for a moment. “He must have been a good man. I never met him, but I might have spied him at Kenilworth a time or two. Do you look like him?”

  “I’ve been told so,” I said. “He was taller, and broader in the shoulders than I am. That’s why it was so strange... He was quite strong, but he died.”

  I looked out at the green river as we rode along the path. How lovely it was. I took a deep breath.

  “And your mother was spared,” Wilcok mused.

  “I never told you about my mother.” My voice was sharp.

  “Ah, I’m sorry, Will. You know how us older people are. We gossip. I’m about the age of your father, your mother. I was born in the last year of the old king’s reign.”

  “Around the time of Magna Carta,” I said with a faint smile.

  “Aye, they say it killed King John to be so humbled. He died shortly after signing it. And then his wife, Isabelle, almost immediately left the country for France, leaving her five children behind to be raised by different households. Lady Eleanor doesn’t even remember her mother.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “Aye, and she remarried, Isabelle did, to the French count th
at she was betrothed to before John swept her off. And that’s why the four children of that union appeared at court about ten years ago, causing trouble... Greedy bastards, they were, the Lusignans. Half-brothers of the King. He gave them land and titles here, didn’t he? They ended up quarreling with everyone, especially Earl Simon. Called him a liar and a traitor to his face.

  “Eventually they were run out of the realm after that parliament in 1258, the first one that Earl Simon presided over—at Oxford, oddly enough. The King had to expel them. Didn’t want to, but he had to agree to it. Young Sir Henry, he was just twenty but a brave youth, chased them back to France on horseback. It was the talk of Kenilworth, but you wouldn’t have known. Happened a couple years before you came.”

  “And now the King is taking his revenge,” I murmured, watching the river, only half listening to Wilecok’s ramblings.

  “Aye, that’s why if you’re stopped while in Oxford, you must say that you’re Will Talbot of the village of Kenilworth, say nothing about being part of Earl Simon’s household. The King’s forces hold the town still, I reckon, since Earl Simon hasn’t had time to relieve them since Lewes. But there’s probably nowt to worry about. In fact, they may have left of their own accord.”

  “I see,” I said, looking down at my dark clothes. I had not questioned it, but normally I would have worn a surcoat with the Montfort crest on it. “So we’re sneaking in.”

  “If you like, yes,” Wilecok said with a grin. “Errand of mercy and all that. Of course once you mention the Dominicans, they’ll back off. Nobody wants to mess with those blackfriars.” He spat adroitly to the other side of his horse.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry you had to be dragged into this,” I said awkwardly.

  “It’s the best thing I’ve done all year,” Wilecok said. “I get tired of running messages for Lady Eleanor, messages between her and her husband, bringing news of the boys... This is like a holiday for me, Will. And as for the pox, I’ve had it and I’m not afeared of it. Had both kinds of pox, if you know what I mean.”

  He showed his rotten teeth as he grinned.

  “Aye, I’ve always wondered what would happen to young Stephen. It didn’t sit right with me that he was sent away like that.”

  I said nothing. A laden cart rolled past us on the road, on its way to Banbury. Wilecok and the farmer waved to each other.

  We stopped to drink water from our skins.

  “Not far from Banbury now,” Wilecoq said. “Are ye getting saddle-sore?” He’d noticed me shifting in the saddle.

  “A bit.”

  “Not far now,” he repeated. “See the church spire?”

  Banbury was a market town, like Warwick. Tall houses, narrow streets, a square with people milling around. It all seemed familiar and I watched quietly, holding the reins of Wilecok’s horse, as he hopped down to make his purchases of pastries and fruit. He seemed to enjoy chatting with the women, the goodwives, who were as plump as he was lean. Morals were looser in the towns, as I had seen at Warwick, and I supposed Wilecok was able to bed women there without any gossip following him back to Kenilworth.

  He loaded up the saddlebags and we were off again, following the course of the river.

  “Did you get the pox from a woman in France, Wilecok?” I asked, once the peace of the day had descended on us once more. I had begun to feel sleepy, lulled by the movement of the horse.

  “A woman? Aye, it could have been a woman,” he said thoughtfully.

  This startled me. I glanced at him, but he said nothing further.

  Because he was light on his feet and moved quickly, he seemed younger than his years, and I occasionally caught traces of a good-looking young man in his face. Thirty years ago, he must have been a lean, pretty, dark-haired lad. It made me feel sad, what he’d come to, but he seemed quite content with his lot. And there was a lesson in that, I thought.

  We sat on our blankets beside the river. It had started to drizzle, but the heat of the day was warm around us. I enjoyed watching the droplets hit the river, seeing fish rise up every now and then.

  “Give me a pint of ale now and I’d be happy,” Wilecok mused.

  We had eaten our sweet and spicy raisin cakes, which were very fresh and flaky, and had split a hunk of cheddar cheese, accompanied by apples.

  “There will be some fine barrels in the friars’ cellar, I warrant,” he added.

  “Ah, so that’s why you wanted to come,” I teased.

  “Aye, they won’t miss it, and I’m not choosy when it comes to drink. It all tastes good to me.”

  “I’m fond of cider myself,” I said, thinking of the time in the castle armory when I had drunk it with Simon. “And then wine. Ale would be third on the list.”

  He moved over onto his belly, resting his head on his arms. “We left early. Mind if I have a nap?”

  “No, not at all.” I was quite happy to stare at the river while the horses grazed gently beside us. The warm sun felt good on my arms. I tried to pull myself back to the previous night in the tiny chamber, the smell of the books, Simon resting against me. That strange thing he had said about us being together someday. How could he send me off to Stephen and yet say something like that, hold those two things together in his mind? Was it that he didn’t expect Stephen to be alive, despite his protestations? Or did he simply not see Stephen as a serious rival?

  It was puzzling, it was hurtful, that he had ended it. But although I understood that he had meant it, I sensed that he was of two minds. And he held out hope that one day he’d bed me again. I closed my eyes, listening to Wilecok’s faint snores. And by God, I thought, I could never pass it up. I couldn’t say no to him.

  The rough blanket was warm against my cheek. I closed my eyes.

  Wilecok shook me gently on the shoulder. “Time to go, Will.”

  I got up and he folded my blanket and put it away for me. “Now’s the time to relieve yourself, if you have to,” he said, nodding to the river.

  I stumbled down to the edge groggily, unbuttoned, and aimed myself at the river. It brought to mind Tom and I, on our meadow picnics in days gone by. That brook would have drained into the Cherwell, no doubt.

  Wilecok pissed for a long time, breathing a deep sigh of relief when he was done. “There now,” he said cheerfully, hopping back up on his horse.

  After I had mounted, he clapped me on the back. “Let’s make haste. We shouldn’t really have dawdled like that.”

  “But it helped,” I said.

  “Aye, it helped. Good to get away from the castle, isn’t it?”

  “Yes... I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “I hated saying goodbye to it this morning, actually.”

  “Ah, I’m always happy to leave it,” Wilecok murmured. He paused as if something had occurred to him. “We’ll ride fast so I just want to say this now. If young Stephen recovers, you being a knight now and all, in my opinion you should just stay on at the priory, work out where to go from there. You needn’t return.”

  I stared at him. “Did Simon tell you to tell me that?”

  “No.” He didn’t seem to be lying. “Simon wants you back, I’ll warrant!”

  “He actually wants me to go to Odiham.”

  Wilecok nodded. “Aye, it’s pleasant there, out of the fray. But you see, Will, as long as you’re under his roof—well, his father’s roof, really—you don’t have any say in your future. Their future determines yours. Now, it’s all right for me because my life is safe at this point. Who am I? A nobody, a hanger-on. But you’re worth something to the Montforts and worth something to the King.”

  “I don’t want to fight for the King!” I snapped.

  “You’re eventually going to have to swear fealty to the King, Will.” He tapped his nose. “If you ever want to live in England again, I mean.”

  “We just won the battle,” I reminded him tersely.

  “Aye, but that wasn’t the final battle. That wasn’t the battle that’s coming. The one that decides.”

 
“It’s true,” I admitted, and my face flushed as I said it. “To be honest, I don’t know if I want to be at that battle.”

  He nodded. “My feeling is, young Simon doesn’t want you to be.” His face twisted slightly. “He wants to keep you, for hisself.”

  My flush deepened and I felt shame, despite myself. “Please don’t...” I paused. “You shouldn’t be saying these things.”

  “I’m sorry, lad,” Wilecok said. “I just want you to know that I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to get out and get a fresh start. It’s not really your fight, is it?”

  His eyes were sympathetic, but too knowing.

  “You heard me,” I said hoarsely. “You heard me talking in the courtyard, all those years ago. The night Stephen left.”

  He nodded. “I was out there, yes.”

  “Spying,” I said bitterly. “I said stupid things then. I was drunk. It changed.”

  Wilecok laid his hand on my arm, dropping his voice down. “All right. Just know, though, even going to Odiham and staying there with your lad means that you’re still caught up in their games.”

  “There are no games!” I said angrily, shoving his arm off. “Simon’s protected me. He ended things with me himself.”

  Wilecok stared out at the river. “Years ago, I was the one who took that young friend of Simon’s away. You’ve probably heard the story.

  “I don’t remember his name,” he continued. “It’s been that long. But, anyway. The tale everyone tells is how much him and Simon were in love. But the story this lad told me was quite different. The further we got from the castle, the more he said he was glad Earl Simon had sent him away. He said Simon had seduced him. It hadn’t been what he wanted. He hadn’t ever wanted to be lovers with Simon. He’d felt forced. He said he liked women. Simon had been too possessive, too jealous. Anyway, I left him at an inn near London. This lovely young maid with red hair was making eyes at him. Before I left he told me not to tell Simon where I’d dropped him off. He was afraid Simon would follow him there.